


Let Love Conquer Your Mind (Warrior, Warrior)

by hilplusterrors



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, they are Soft and Lance is in Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27287503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hilplusterrors/pseuds/hilplusterrors
Summary: He drags himself out of bed and stumbles (more from tiredness than pain) toward the bathroom, desperate to get the sleep out of his eyes. The mirror above the sink is not kind to him as he splashes water on his face and rubs his eyes. He looks terrible. Bruised, scratched, exhausted. He wishes for the millionth time that healing pods were easier on the body.ORLance gets beat up on a mission
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 233





	Let Love Conquer Your Mind (Warrior, Warrior)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by that animatic by binart on Tumblr (if I can figure out how to link to it I will, but as of now it's pretty recent and not hard to find). Title from the song Warrior by AURORA. First completed fic!!!! so please be honest but kind. Constructive criticism welcome bc I want to be as good as I can lol.

Lance wakes achy. His entire right side _hurts._ But he can stand. He can walk. He knows because he did, by himself, to his room. So he doesn't need a healing pod, and honestly? Doesn't want one. They speed up the process, sure, but emerging into light and sound and sensation after even a few hours of blissful emptiness is nothing short of torturous. Lance hates the healing pods. Avoids them at all costs. Doesn't even like being around them; they always have this weird chemical smell lingering around.

He doesn't regret that choice. But his body hurts all the same.

He drags himself out of bed and stumbles (more from tiredness than pain) towards his bathroom, desperate to get the sleep out of his eyes. The mirror above the sink is not kind to him as he splashes water on his face and rubs his eyes. He looks terrible. Bruised, scratched, exhausted. He wishes for the millionth time that healing pods were easier on the body.

He touches his cheek and winces, partly because of the sting, partly because the memory still has his hands shaking. _Thrown like a toy,_ he thinks, fixating on the way one of the sentries caught him off guard. He was a ragdoll, helpless with pain after being pitched into the wall hard enough to make him see stars, bayard _somewhere,_ but not within reach.

He shudders, trying to push that pitiful sound he made as the sentry charged at him out of his mind. The kick to his ribs, the sob that escaped him as he was grabbed . . . Pidge was right inside the room he was supposed to be guarding, and she was able to save his useless ass, thankfully, but that doesn't stop Lance feeling like a failure. He wasn't SUPPOSED to need help, he was SUPPOSED to be the one doing the protecting.

He was so scared.

He squeezes his eyes shut, but that doesn't keep the remnant fear from bubbling up in his chest, making his hands tremble and his knees wobble. He could have _died._ This isn't new, but it never stops making him want to hide and cry like a scared little kid.

He's definitely going to have nightmares about this one.

The idea of waking up alone and scared and shaking in the dark digs a hollow in his stomach. He runs himself a glass of water and chugs it, suddenly parched, but it just makes him feel ill. He usually feels better after a rest, but something about today has him a mess. He doesn't like it. Maybe it just wasn't enough. Yeah. That's it. He'll feel better after a longer nap.

He grabs the glass to refill it, but stops at the sound of his door _whishing_ open. Who . . . ?

He steps into his room and relaxes. He was half afraid it would be Hunk or Shiro, wanting to talk about the mission or his feelings. Which he would normally appreciate, but he's so . . . _tired._ He's not up to talking about anything right now.

"Lance!" Keith rushes toward him, worry etched across his face. He stops in front of Lance and reaches up to touch his bruised cheek.

He hasn't even changed out of his Blade uniform; he must have come as soon as he got back, as soon as they told him, no hesitation. Something tightens in Lance's chest, and he thinks that he would do the same. Even before . . . warmth curls inside him at the memory of that day, barely a week ago, when panic and blood finally, _finally_ forced a confession out of him - because what if he didn't get another chance? He almost hadn't this time - and Keith . . . Keith _kissed_ him, and told him that he felt the same, and . . . kissing Keith is something he never thought he'd get to do. And look at them now.

Look at them now indeed.

Keith's mouth wobbles, and he presses his hand cautiously against Lance's cheek. "When they told me you were hurt . . ." He trails off, distress tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Lance sighs, leaning into the touch, and lets his eyes close. "I'm okay," he says softly. And he is. All of that icky hollow feeling has melted away. Keith just does that to him - soothes the hurts, stirs up confusing new feelings in their place, and leaves him warm and tingly.

His eyes open, and the way Keith is looking at him . . .

Lance shivers, and Keith slides his free arm around him and pulls him closer, closer, and presses his mouth against Lance's. Carefully, gently, he kisses Lance, and Lance sighs into his mouth and melts against him, arms sliding around his shoulders to steady himself. It's soft and warm and open-mouthed but tender and wet but cautious and Keith's tongue ghosts along his lips but never goes further, probably nervous about going as far as making out just yet, and Lance makes a soft noise in the back of his throat at the thought (NOT that he hasn't thought about it before) just as Keith pulls back.

Keith's face is flushed, and Lance's heart pounds. That smile, barely there but still there, could satisfy Lance's ache for sun for the rest of his life. Keith bumps his forehead against Lance's and holds his eyes like it's life or death.

Lance closes his eyes, because if he has to keep seeing Keith look at him this intensely, he'll cry, and he doesn't want that. "Thank you," he says quietly. "I'm - thank you. For, uh. Caring, I guess."

Keith huffs a laugh that Lance can feel warm on his face. "Well. If this becomes a habit, I'm not going to be so nice to you. Because I care. So, uh. Don't get used to it."

Lance pulls away with a laugh so he can look at Keith. His eyes are shiny with affection and possibly tears. "Okay," Lance says, unable to stop smiling. "Okay."

Maybe he doesn't have to be alone anymore.


End file.
